


drowsily, but comfortably

by writevale



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Early Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writevale/pseuds/writevale
Summary: Cecil has never met anyone who can sleep through the sunrise.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 14
Kudos: 124





	drowsily, but comfortably

**Author's Note:**

> title from this quote from ep 12: _'Sleep heavily and know that I am here with you now. The past is gone, and cannot harm you anymore. And while the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first and settles in as the gentle present. This now, this us? We can cope with that. We can do this together. You and I, drowsily, but comfortably'_

How?

That had been the most frequently pondered question of the last 12 hours. How? How did Carlos the Scientist know that the sight of him, perched nervously on the bonnet of his new truck in the station parking lot, would make Cecil's heart fall out of his chest in a series of rhythmic stutters? How could Carlos the Scientist eat an entire invisible pie and still be tipsy enough after half a beer to press himself up against Cecil in the small booth they shared at the Moonlite to suggest that they take things back to Cecil's place? How did he do that _thing_ with his mouth?

How?

How the Hell was he still _asleep_?

Cecil rolled carefully onto his side, the burned apricot of the morning sunlight casting sharp lines on the bed as it snuck through the gaps in the blinds. At first, Cecil had thought that Carlos was just _really_ good at pretending to be asleep. His little sleepy grumbles and snores were very convincing. But it soon became clear that, no, the scientist was asleep, genuinely asleep, in Cecil's bed. And he wasn't waking up.

The sunrise had been particularly rowdy that morning, an ecstatic screeching of tires and strangled birds. A sound as giddy as the bubbling joy in Cecil's chest at the warm weight of Carlos' body under the sheets next to him. He'd expected Carlos to stir, to give him a tired but _perfect_ smile. Perhaps a close-mouthed, 'sorry-about-my-morning-breath' kiss?

Carlos was lying on his back, legs and arms spread and bent as though he had been dropped there from a great height. His gloriously shiny hair flowed out over the pillows and it was difficult for Cecil to ignore the itch in his fingers that desperately wanted to touch it. A lock had fallen across Carlos' sleep-smoothed face, and Cecil watched it flutter into the air with each of Carlos' deep, peaceful exhalations. He was breathing. He wasn't dead. Although, Cecil had pretended to 'wake up' twice in the early hours of the morning to cuddle in closer to the man and sneakily feel the thudding of his heartbeat beneath his ribcage.

But then, a new question: _why_ wasn't he waking up? Was he -? Had they - ?

Cecil pulled on the covers to hide the burn of his cheeks from the observing cameras. He squinted down at the piles of discarded clothing on the floor. Carlos' jeans, Cecil's waistcoat, Carlos' labcoat (folded), Cecil's tutu (torn). Last night had been even more perfect than Cecil had dared to imagine but -

What if he'd hurt Carlos? Accidentally, of course. What if Carlos was now comatose and Cecil was going to have to explain to the entirety of Night Vale the vague circumstances of his fall into permanent unconsciousness? What if the town had lost its greatest scientific mind and it was all Cecil's fault?

'Carlos?' He whispered, velvet voice rough with disuse and anxiety. The scientist's long, black eyelashes didn't so much as flicker against his cheeks. 'Carlos?' Still nothing.

Cecil had been on the receiving end of far too many rude awakenings to subject Carlos to one. If the man was simply dozing, he hardly deserved Cecil shaking his shoulders and shouting his name. Cecil wanted him to want to stay the night again. Tonight, for example. And every night after that until the end of eternity.

Perhaps the sunrise was too distant a noise to wake Carlos up? Perhaps the arrhythmic thudding of Mr Jones' 5th tentacle on the floor in the apartment above wasn't that noisy to Carlos either? Cecil tried to follow along when Carlos talked about his work in the lab, it all sounded very loud. Cecil spent most of his day in a sound-proof booth, it would make sense that the ambient noise in his apartment might seem like a roar to him. The same noises might be a soothing whisper to his oaky-voiced boyfriend.

Either way, Cecil couldn't just lie there, the uncertainty was running his nerves ragged. Coffee. Coffee could be the answer. And if he swung his hammer a little more forcefully than usual? If he let the machine whistle for a little longer than strictly necessary? Well, how could Carlos the Scientist sleep through that?

*

Cecil nearly completely upended his coffee as he slalomed between the crumpled clothing on the floor and glanced up to find Carlos watching him.

'Hi.'

_Hi_. From the man Cecil had been staring at in a state of confused panic all morning, daydreams rolling like tumbleweeds into a series of imagined catastrophes. In Cecil's absence, he had shuffled up the bed a little, brushed his hair back from his wonderful, pillow-creased face. The slope of his shoulders, the quirk in his lips, sleepiness was curled into every lazy line of him. Except his eyes. They glittered across at Cecil's disbelieving pout as though his scientific brain had rebooted overnight and he was now full of ideas and ready to chase them down.

Cecil deposited his coffee on the bedside table before he splashed himself with the still bubbling blackness. He felt those alert eyes raking over his tattoos and lower as he climbed back into bed. Carlos blinked up at him from the pillows and Cecil watched the tendons in the back of his hands twitch as the scientist debated whether or not he was allowed to touch. The fear that had buzzed through Cecil's waking hours melted in the warmth of Carlos' smile.

'I was getting worried that you weren't going to wake up at all.' He admitted through a bitten lip. Carlos giggled, the sound sweeter than any morning birdsong.

'Oh, really? I'm sorry. I'm a very heavy sleeper! I tested it - um, hang on?' He fumbled around on the bedside table for his glasses, grinning in a way that made Cecil's palms sweat when the radio host finally remembered what they had done with them last night and handed them over. 'I have a chart on my phone! I used little sheep as the points on the graph and, oh, just the cutest little moons and stars for the error bars and, um, I think I was thinking of you because I did it all in the dreamiest lilac - let me show you!'

'Wait - wait!' Cecil caught his boyfriend by the wrist, just above where the only working timepiece in Night Vale ticked away happily. He smiled shyly as Carlos sank into the touch, the dark eyes behind the scientist's glasses darted between Cecil's violet ones and his mouth. Carlos' lips were warm and dry when he kissed them and then, suddenly, open and pliant as Carlos let out a flustered but contented peep of a noise and kissed him back. Morning breath be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> writing cecilos fluff when you're sad and anxious is self-care and I'll die on this hill
> 
> this hasn't been beta read, my apologies if there were moments of glaring britishness (there always are)


End file.
